


His Favorite Color was Blue

by md4572



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Flustered GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, POV GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/md4572/pseuds/md4572
Summary: A beginning of fluff and cute moments with a twisted and angsty ending. Please Enjoy!
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 2





	His Favorite Color was Blue

The sultry late summer heat beats down onto the lands of Manberg giving rise to the diurnal sounds of fuming arguments between unhealthy adversaries and dreadful faces that have witnessed incessant betrayal. Painful words were aimed at the heart and revolted faces exchanged before elucidating that the morning to come will be verbally brawled again until one side eventually triumphs.  
Like that, the day is concluded, and with the temperate night, awakens a short twilight followed with an entire new realm of projects as the darkness engulfs the city of Manberg.  
Most citizens are productive of their work, not left lonely as countless horrors engross in devouring the soul of an unsheltered resident. Yet, there were others that veered to the opposing side of relying on the protection of their own walls against the disgusting creatures occupying the night. George was one of these few individuals.  
George gazed at the gritty and rugged stone roof from his jacinthe colored twin sized bed. He inadvertently picked at his nail fold, slightly blemishing the soft skin which once resided there. George’s detrimental night schedule was nearly impossible to rectify. It was not that he intentionally strove to fabricate a time period in his 24 hours in which he purposely held onto any consciousness. He couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t paranoid nor agitated, but an insomniac.  
George has always abstained from capitulating to beings that he knows overthrow any action he sets to. He pressures himself throughout the day, that he is drained from any energy and he yearns for just a drop of that pleasureful sting your eyes feel when one grows weary. Yet he can not obtain that. He’s scavenged for an answer; a possible practice to be performed to cure him of this destructive obstacle. To no avail, no remedy for his misfortune.  
His hand scavenged for the side of his mattress as he sat himself upright from his original position. It felt almost locked tight to his pale, thin arms and small torso. He managed to don his tattered wrought iron colored shoes and balance himself.  
His unpunctual strolls at these times of the night provided in escaping the suffocating insomnia ridden room he inhabited. These times were comforting and serene.

He takes a sorely needed profound breath through his nose, soaking in the feeling of the balmy air hitting the back of his throat as it slips into his lungs. His slender hands located the pockets of his tarnished denim jeans and fiddled with the small ball of lint unearthed from deep within the fabric valleys.  
George’s treasure area was unknown to everyone. He didn’t allow a soul to disrupt the undisturbed allure of these sacred whereabouts. The faint buzzing of crickets and katydids paired with the low breeze rippling through the dark oak trees made the crunching of leaves beneath his feet the solitary, audible noise around.  
George’s mind was always racing. It always found something to dwell on; turning constantly like cranks. Powered on like a generator; whether it be the creaking of the sour, corroding wooden floorboards traversing to buildings in Manberg or the small details in the foolish actions of the people swarming him all day. George thought of countless things. He’s reflected on past events, thought with current circumstances, and contemplated the future.  
Deep in thought, but still very aware of his surroundings, he has set foot into this enchanted area. His ears opened to the sounds of calm, rippling water which seemed to constantly move although nothing grazed the small pond. His eyes gazed at the beautiful luminescent flowers that bobbed at the water’s surface. The water blossoms radiated like sapphires, releasing glowing dust particles into the air, engulfing dark spots and transforming it into a gleaming wonderland. Various flowers sprinkle around the land which meets the water and expands into the trees. Small rocks lay motionless at the bed of the tarn which sat at the deepest part; a foot and a half.  
A sigh of relief was emitted from George’s mouth, viewing the untouched, small area. His ankles felt unconfined from the jeans that met his ankle regularly as they were cuffed up, just below his knees. Shoelaces gracefully fell from their tight hug with a swift pull. Foot sole met dark and damp soil and shoes were neatly placed to the side. His foot breached water and halted quickly. Shivers shot through George’s body as he sunk himself ankle deep into the pleasantly cold water.  
He settled himself near the water’s edge; confining himself to a drier sliver of land. His mind wanders to many things. The slightly cold water that his feet have grown accustomed to. The enchanting blue florets that were buoyant on the liquid’s surface. Trees which absorbed the blue light stunningly as if it were its natural color. The bright

moon spying on the land through the countless leaves above him. It was so irresistibly gorgeous.  
George’s heart dropped into his stomach. His ears discerned an unidentified noise. Crunching of leaves were heard; only to be growing near him. This unknown noise could be absolutely anything; a wild animal, brute mobs, or maybe a person. He prayed that another person has yet to discover this place.  
His hand hunts for his netherite blade. Surely he hasn’t forgotten it at home. He’d never overlook his own safety.. Right?  
He deems these thoughts unimportant. Fists rose up, but before he could think of any plan, he was already shooting back into the water by a great force.  
A substantial splash soaked anything around it within a 4 foot diameter. Shoes were dripping with water. The flowers received a refreshing drink. The soil moistened and clothes stuck close to skin.  
Air is quickly pushed in and out of George’s lungs as his face breaches the surface of the water. His hair is pressed flat onto his forehead. Goggles fall to the bridge of his nose, dripping wet with water. His blue shirt pasted to his slim chest.  
George’s voice, hushed but irritated, speaks, “What the hell?”  
Harsh wheezing erupts from the source of his distress. A tall man who is roughly 6’3”; his flaxen hair is flat on his head. Gleaming chartreuse eyes are covered by scrunched eyelids holding back an outburst of a howling fit of laughter. His muscular body build is clearly shown through the slightly transparent, wet, green hoodie that embraces his skin.  
Dream. His name is Dream. The name rolled off George’s tongue constantly. Whether it be the shrieking that retreated from his mouth in a menacing situation or the flushing rose color to his cheeks when he tells Dream off from playfully flirting with him. Of course that wasn’t his real name. It was a faux coverup code name. There was no real reason to use it, but everyone grew a fascination with using these odd titles.  
“Dream? What the hell? Get off of me.” George demanded, annoyance seeping from his voice.

Dream’s finger meets his eye and slides away the tears that began to perk on his waterline. His chest rises and falls, consuming the air as his breathing begins to normalize.  
His annoying voice, yet so alluring simultaneously, speaks, “Hiya, Georgie!”  
George’s face, unamused, scrunches to a sarcastic smile mockingly, “Hiya, Dreamy.”  
George wastes no time to rapid fire shooting questions.  
“Why are you here?” He hisses out.  
Dream responds, “Oh- uh, I was gonna visit and saw y-”  
He was cut off with George reviewing his inquiry, deciding to question further back, “Wait- no. How did you FIND this place?”  
“Well, you could actually give me a chance to speak. That would be great.”  
Dream stares down at George, who rolls his eyes and scoffs. It seems he’s calmed down.  
“Well, I was gonna come and annoy you because I was bored, but I saw you walk out of your house with, surprisingly, nothing to protect you. I mean- I decided to do the best thing a friend can do and scare you.”  
Without a second, Dream let out a small wheeze to follow his answer, pushing George closer to chucking a ball of emotions; anger, anxiety, energy, fright.  
George bottles these emotions and sighs, breathing out, “I fucking hate you.” George zones out from his ears and focuses on the things around him.  
His body begins to run cold from the, now, unwelcoming biting water that splashed up onto his skin occasionally. He wished for warmth. The burdensome weight that seemed to grow heavier as seconds passed. He felt breathless. Like he was underwater and unable to escape. His breathing spikes and falls.

He’s noticed that his panic attacks became more frequent after the first war. The persistent TNT detonations ringing his ears. They bled. The agonizing stab wounds and burn marks that littered his body. Excruciating pain. Piles of gravel and sand that imprisoned him underneath the land’s surface. He could almost feel the water rushing into his lungs as his comrades heaved him onto shore...  
George disregarded the icy water splashing down his throat. He was coughing and shaking violently. His breathing became unsteady. His eyes were far from hazy anymore. His nose flared as he used any air way to grasp oxygen and trap it in his lungs. Unlike the flowers, his head could barely keep afloat the water.  
After a matter of seconds, most things stopped. The feeling of warmth suddenly wrapped around his body like a tight blanket. His battle for air was cut short, being victorious and refreshing himself with gulps of oxygen, savoring the taste that was absent on his tongue. His throat was scratchy from the sharp air that chronically ripped at his throat like a knife, coughing violently.  
What felt like laying in a bed of nails was replaced with a soft, wet cloud. Aroma of damp soil and feelings of coarseness in his hands as he grasped at a handful of earth to regain his befouled senses felt breathtaking. Wide eyes stared at the leaves that hovered above him in stillness. Mouth was agape, taking in air as if it was just given to him like a treat. Body was stiff; a board that shuddered at every breath and every blink of an eye. His eyes met Dream’s lips. The only visible feature that was shown, but only around him.  
Dream’s lips quivered to speak words that refused to exit their place on his tongue. Silence was greeted from both. The silence was loud, yet allowed them to encompass the enticing noises of their surroundings.  
The small pond returned to its normal condition; gentle rippling at the surface, quiet gliding of the gleaming blossoms returning to their original positions, and the soft melody that whistled through the forest trees. The crunching of soil in George’s palm and beneath Dream as he sat cross legged at the head of George occupied the gentle noise temporarily. Dream guided George’s head into his lap and began to hum a tune.

A tune that seemed to spark something in George. Something that made his heart beat just a tad quicker. Something that made his arms and legs grow numb, yet tingle with bewilderment concurrently. Something that steadied his panting lungs and glossy eyes.  
This left him in dismay.  
Not much energy coursed through his veins. He grew exhausted, but not confronting the sweetness of drowsiness that most others would feel.  
George gulped down the ocean of emotions that threatened to spill from the cracks of his words.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Uttering those two words did more damage to him than what would show. Those words were normally used in a lighthearted manner during their time when hanging out, but now it haunted him with the mangled feelings of fragility.  
“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong, George.”  
Dream attempted to reassure his friend who’s head shifted anxiously in his lap. Predictably, his attempt failed. Dream has known George for years, but not normally like this.  
Years of quirky laughter and quiet secrets exchanged and Dream still couldn’t read George like he could others. He was like a book with words written in gibberish. It felt like if you tried hard enough you could decode something. Anything. In the end, it was impossible, yet you couldn’t help but keep reading.  
“For everything, I guess. For the wars. For not being here.” George went silent, his auditive breathing and fast heartbeat waited. His ears lingered for any words.  
Words of action were spoken as George sat upright from Dream’s lap. His shifting, tall figure loomed over George’s petite, sitting one.

Once again, the flowers beamed with their beauty of blue that always seemed to last. Dream’s shoes now flooded with water as he only sank further into the pool of water and halted before their tantalizing pulchritude.  
These adoring flowers.  
Looking like they would taste of wintergreen and smell sickly sweet, he plucked one and brought it to his lips. He whispered words of secrecy to them before he turned around to face the wondrous, brown-haired man that was seated before him.  
Like a king on a throne.  
George’s giggles filled the tall man’s ears. Dream ate them up delightfully.  
“Wh-what are you laughing at?” He couldn’t help but nervously giggle as well. George couldn’t muster up words. His eyelids shut, tears daring to spill from behind them.  
George’s body rose from the soil. Budded giggles turned to blossoming laughter. In the ears of the taller male, it was beautiful.  
His lungs refused to let air in, currently occupied by laughter. His legs were barely able to stand and a large smile stained his face.  
He walked over to Dream and placed an unsteady hand on his shoulder to balance himself. Words tried to leave his mouth, but couldn’t. Waterfalls of warm tears rushed down his face.  
Dream’s little giggles turned to louder laughs in unison with George.  
“W-why were you,” George wheezed, “why did you WHI-SPER to that flower?” He barely stood.  
Dream’s face flushed from the tips of his ears to his cheeks and across his nose. Just then, an idea popped into his head.  
Dream’s right hand grasped George’s left, and his left met the smaller man’s waist pulling him comfortably close.

Staring into each other’s eyes was something George had absolutely no clue how to feel about. Met with this situation currently, Dream’s eyes were full with adulation while his packed with skepticism.  
As if the pool of water stopped splashing, wind finally tired from it’s soft howling, leaving the trees alone, the music of nature concluded momentarily.  
Sounds of hearts thumping beneath ribs and breaths shaky, eyes met each other, attempting to read the face of one another.  
Tan fingers raised to the brown-haired man’s face, gently tucking his hair behind his ear. Weight was then introduced. Very slight, and delicately tickling him.  
He knew what it was. It’s everlasting beauty shining in the reflection of the water. The ravishing azure blue that complemented his intoxicatingly frosty blue eye and contrasted the other sweetly captivating chestnut-colored one. The silk blue petals parallel with his soft pink lips. Light freckles, barely visible, like stars shining early at dusk blended into the specks of white on the gorgeous deep cobalt blossom.  
Dream knew his favorite color was blue. He knows that the only color he can distinctly discern are shades of the strong color, but it captivates and represents George splendidly well.  
“You look beautiful.” Dream muttered under his breath, absolutely stunned at the countless features that radiated beauty like a celestial being.  
“Uh.. heh.. Why are we in this position, Dream?” his gaze averted away from the other’s that was filled with fondness and wonder.  
George’s curious and flustered words caught up to the dazing man that stood just 5 inches over him. Snapping out of it, Dream’s hand felt warm against George’s face. His right palm, pleasurably warm cupped George’s cold right face, his thumb lightly moving just under his eye, admiring it’s soft feel.  
The taller man’s face leaned closer, just hovering over his lips. Warm breath tickled George’s quivering, upper lip.

Dream gulped, “Can- can I kiss you?”  
George had no clue what to say. Something itched him to kiss him. He didn’t feel pressured. He knows Dream. He knows Dream cares for him. He felt confident in his answer.  
“Yes..” George’s eyes flickered from chartreuse eyes to plump parted lips and back up.


End file.
